


Burn

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Series: Strex Approved [3]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His whole body burns beneath you and you can feel him searing into your skin. There is no escape and you would not take it even if there were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

> For Charlie, the hot, hot scientist to my dorky little radio presenter.

Your hand is around his throat and you can feel the _beatbeatbeat_ of his pulse against your palm. The smile stretching at your face is so wide it is painful, it is tugging at the scar tissue at the corner of your lips.

You'd been sad that day. You'd been slipping in and out of yourself and he had found you curled on the floor and crying.

“Meine Lieber, what is wrong?” he had asked, crouching beside you, stroking your hair with such tenderness. You hadn't flinched away from the touch, but you did not lean towards it either. You lay still and continued to stare blankly ahead, silent tears sliding down along your cheeks. “Do not be sad, meine rose. You know I will not stand for that.”

When you did not smile he got out a knife and he carved you a beautiful, permanent smile, so that you will always be happy. He lives to make you happy in the same way you strive to please him. Your darling.

His lips part but he cannot draw breath. You are pressing too hard. His eyes are dark, so dark, two black holes in his head and if you get close enough they could probably suck you in. You press your thumbs harder against his trachea. The skin burns beneath your fingers. They leave little white circles where they press down into it. His mouth moves but releases no sound.

The best part is that he could stop you if he so wished. His arms are by his sides, his palms resting light and so, so hot against your thighs. He is the stronger one. He could flip you in an instant, could force you into submission, hold you down and break your fingers one by one. Instead he is still beneath you, submissive, accepting.

You let go.

As he's gasping in air you cover his mouth with yours, force him to swallow down your shallow exhale. He does so with needy urgency. You giggle against his lips. He answers with a breathless chuckle, low and rumbling. His hands rub up and down your thighs and you can feel the heat of them burning into your skin through your clothes.

“Korbin, Korbin, Korbin. My beauty. My world.” You stroke his face, let your fingers follow the curve of cheekbone, the strong line of his jaw. He swallows when your fingertips slide light and teasing down his throat, but you merely ghost over it.

“Kevin,” he says, and it is more than any sweet endearment falling from his lips could ever be. The way your name sounds wrapped in his voice, deep and hoarse from the pressure you'd put on his throat, is sweeter than the music of a hundred angels (and you have heard their music, it is very sweet). You never love your name so much as when you hear it from him. He takes notice of your delight, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. “Kevin.”

Your mouth is against his before he can form it again, hungry and demanding. His lips part obediently at your silent prompting and then you are attempting to consume him, licking into his mouth until nothing is left but the taste of you. You think that is how his mouth should always taste, and that he should remember you with every swallow. His tongue burns against yours like cinnamon.

His hands are at your waist, moving up your back, pushing and pulling until you are pressed fully against him. His whole body burns beneath you and you can feel him searing into your skin. There is no escape and you would not take it even if there were. You have long since given yourself to him.

You are laughing even as he removes your clothes. He does it with care, as if afraid you will break, as if afraid the scars littering your torso might pull apart if he is too rough and your insides will spill out, blood and wires and mess. Your laughter is high, full, unguarded. He smiles at you as he flips you both, pinning you to the mattress with his hips and worshipping your skin with his mouth.

Each kiss burns like cigarettes pressed against your skin, and you feel certain that even now he must be dropping more scars along your body with each gentle brush of lips, must be branding you with his loving marks so that everyone will know you are his. The very thought of that causes you to moan through the laughter, an odd mixture of sound.

He strips himself as you watch, reaching out to trace familiar lines, faded scars, and some newer additions to your favourite and most cherished canvas. His skin is hot beneath your touch and you are sure there are sparks when your fingers trail along, charred lines left in their wake. He pushes you down against the mattress, silences your laughter with more kisses and you are burning up from the heat of him. Your skin is bubbling where your naked bodies are pressed together, is melting down like plastic and sticking to your bones.

“Oh. Oh, Korbin.”

He is not only all around you, but inside you, burning you from the inside out. First with fingers, slick and burning like molten lava, then he is properly inside, searing you from your core. You arch and gasp and beg in the sweet way that he so loves, and he gives what you ask and rages through you like a forest fire. You are flushed and sweating. You are covered in flames and burning like a torch. He is whispering hot words against your ear, sending trails of fire down your spine, and there are sparks in your stomach.

You come together and it is fireworks, dynamite, it leaves you weak and shattered and burned out. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your face. His touch is cooler now, is soothing over the areas that have been burned by it before.

“I love you.” Your tongue feels like charcoal. Your mouth is full of ash.

“Ich liebe dich, meine Spätzchen.”

The cold is starting to seep in. He settles by your side, solid warmth and security. You curl into his chest and he pulls the blanket around you both.

“Rest now, Liebelein.”

“Mmmyes, my sweet.”

Your head is on his chest and you can hear the _beatbeatbeat_ of his heart beneath your ear.

 


End file.
